The Witch's Knight
by Dust Traveller
Summary: AU The Witch, prophecized destroyer of all, has set up shop in the Cursed Wood. Robin, squire of Gotham, and his only companion, a wisecracking enchanted horse, must face the dreaded witch. Of course, can you trust prophecies written by crazy old men?
1. Sophismata

A/N: I don't know what possessed me to start writing this. Honestly, I have enough on my plate as it is. The thing is, my other Teen Titans stories are dreadfully serious, and Teen Titans isn't ALL about seriousness. There are moments of levity and humor in it as well. In an effort to take a break from the seriousness of it all, I decided to start writing a humorous little romantic adventure comedy. Of course, somewhere along the lines it mutated into its current form, and an actual plot developed. 

As usual, my own prejudices were the Titans are concerned came to the fore, and it turned into a Robin/Raven type fic. I just honestly think those two were meant for each other, despite evidence to the contrary.

Oh well.

I was wondering if there are any good Robin/Starfire fics out there. In fairness to the genre, I looked around to see how the other side of the shippers live, and I found a crapload of AU, Kori is a rich girl/highschool kid/single mother, Richard is a Rich boy/bad boy/businessman type fics, and that's not really what I like to read. Does anybody know of any GOOD Robin x Starfire fics? I haven't really read any, but I know they must be out there.

I'm not so biased that I wouldn't enjoy reading such a fic, but I have yet to find one that I can really sink my teeth into.

Anyway, enough bullshitting. On with the show.

* * *

"Is it true what they say. Are we too blind to find a way? Fear of the unknown cloud our hearts today. Come into my world, see through my eyes. Try to understand, don't want to lose what we have. We've been dreaming, but who can deny. It's the best way of living, between the truth and the lies. See who I am, break through the surface. Reach for my hand, let's show them that we can. Free our minds and find a way, the world is in our hands. This is not the end." -See Who I am, Within Temptation

* * *

He knew it was the Witch's Forest long before he had penetrated to the heart of it. It might have been the gossamer strands of spider silk ever so delicately dusted over the ominious looking trees, or perhaps the way a cold wind crept through the boughs and bushes despite the late summer heat.

The big clue though, the one that you would have had to have been utterly clueless to ignore, was the rotted wooden sign that said, "Witch's Forest, Enter Ye at Thine Own Peril".

Well, that and the rusted and empty suits of armor scattered about the path that lead a twisting way into the forest.

Of course his map SAID that this was the Witch's Forest, but his map said alot of things. It also said that the Witch's Forest was impenetrable and that no man could enter.

Admittedly, it was a remarkably expressive map.

A snort caught his attention and he found his view changing, spinning around to face the road they had just left.

"Alright, I've seen enough. Creepy spider infested forests with empty suits of armor scattered about warning us of our impending doom is where I draw the line. Admittedly it's a very fine line, but it has officially been crossed. Thank you for playing, good night."

He looked down at the dark green mane and the expressive light green ears that perked every which way searching for sounds of danger, and tugged on the reins.

"Garfield, stop that this instant, you know that we have been tasked with this by the King himself-"

"Yeah, but in case you hadn't noticed, you weren't exactly on the top of the list of people voted most likely to succeed in ending the Evil Witch's Reign of Terror at the going away party."

Robin paused. "I thought I looked remarkably good in black. The eulogy was a nice touch."

"Robin, this is a Baaad Idea. I mean, I want fortune and glory as much as the next enchanted horse, but I don't want to lose my skin doing it. I like my skin. It's very comfortable."

Robin scowled. "So in other words you want all the benefits of a dangerous quest completed with none of the associated perils, is that it?"

Garfield stopped and rolled one equine eye up at Robin. "I admit it's not the most noble or even particularly realistic goal, but a guy can dream, can't he?"

Robin sighed and shook his head. After a short moment of consideration he hopped lightly down from the emerald horse and resolutely marched towards the path.

"Robin what are you doing?" The horse called out after him.

Robin didn't turn as he marched forward, though he wasn't marching particularly fast.

"I'm discharging my sworn duty as a Knight of Gotham." He paused. "You know, that place we swore an oath of loyalty to and who, by the way, pays our salary?"

The horse trailed after him with as irate an expression as a horse can manage. "Ok first off, you aren't a Knight yet, you don't even have any armor, not to mention a shield crest. Second of all, I might add, YOU swore an oath of loyalty, I don't recall ever doing anything that honorably stupid myself. Lastly, the last time I checked, I don't draw a paycheck... so that about blows your argument out of the water."

Robin stopped in front of the path into the forest and crossed his arms, never looking at the mount behind him. "I wasn't aware we were having an argument... you say you don't want to go in there, I'm not forcing you to. Wait here. I'll be back in... a while."

"See that's where you're wrong, Robin... I said I don't want US to go in there. As in more than one... you and I... plural."

With a squaring of his shoulders and a deep breath to settle himself, Robin marched resolutely into the forest.

The horse behind him sighed, hesitated for a moment, then followed him. "I hate it when you get like this."

He could hear the grin in Robin's voice as he continued forward. "When have I ever been any different?"

The horse glared at him. "My point exactly."

Almost immediately the forest cut off any light from the high noon sun, a cold, dank sort of mist crept in obscuring all detail about the path they walked. Robin had to squint hard to make out the very faint markings of the trail, his face a mask of concentration.

Which was suddenly broken by a clanging noise immediately behind him. He stopped and rounded on the culprit slowly.

"Ouch! Dang it, who leaves this stuff just lying around, you know?"

Robin looked down at the suit of armor his mount had stumbled over. He shook his head. Garfield had to be about the most uncoordinated warhorse he knew of.

The greenest and most talkative as well, but some things went without saying.

At least if you wanted to avoid an earful.

Robin bent down closer and inspected some minute detail of the armor.

"Sir Ambrose... didn't he leave last winter?"

"Hey yeah... I remember the minstrels were all buzzing about that... Great Sir Ambrose the Dragon Slayer marching forth to do great deeds, to end the Evil Witch's something something dum da dum dum rhymes with deeds." He paused. "Not the catchiest tune in the world, was it? Of course by then I imagine they were kinda running low on inspiration."

He sniffed the armor and sneezed, shaking his head as though clearing a cobweb from it.

"So this is how ol' Ambrose ended up, huh? Poor bastard."

Robin frowned and inspected the armor more carefully. "No signs of battle, not a scuff on it... how could someone with a reputation for slaying dragons be dealt with so definitively? There's something going on here."

The horse snorted again. "Heellllo! Evil Witch? Daughter to the Terrible Sorceror Trigon, Master of the Nine Hells? Prophecized Bringer of the End of All Things? Mistress of Dark Powers the World Was Not Meant to Know? She probably fried him right out of his armor like one of those lobster what-sis the dockhands are always yammering about. Sans butter of course." He shivered. "Or maybe... not sans butter... ewww."

Robin put his hands on his hips. "I'm just saying, I find it a bit odd... I mean, no sign of a body, no struggle... nothing. You'd think a Knight with Ambrose's exprience could put up a bit more of a-"

He stopped.

Garfield flattened his ears. "What? What is it?"

A cold, whispery sort of voice took a sighing breath and then whispered.

"Get. Ouuuut."

Horse and man paled and looked at one another. The horse nodded.

"Good advice. I'm outie. See you on the flip side, buddy."

"Garfield..." Robin hissed, but the horse had already retreated into the mists from whence they had come. He was suddenly very alone.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

"I said, get out... there is nothing for you here." The voice seemed to come from every direction at once, and none of them. He turned slowly, looking for the source of the noise.

"I am Sir Robin of Gotham, charged with ending the Reign of the Evil Witch of the Cursed Wood... I will not leave until I have seen out my sworn duty."

A long silence, then what sounded like a disbelieving snort. "If you're a knight where is your armor?"

He sighed. "I couldn't afford any... but I have my colors, red and green! They are armor enough."

The voice sounded skeptical. "Your shield and sword?"

He winced. "Ermm... Again, very expensive stuff. Never really had much of a use for an overgrown steak knife anyway." He extended his magical quarterstaff and spun it in a flourish, bringing it up into a ready position under one arm with his other arm outstretched.

"This is more my style."

The voice paused.

"Mount?" It said, a trifle dryly, Robin thought.

He rolled his eyes. "Probably about half way back to Gotham by now... look... I'll admit, I'm not exactly a Knight, per say, but I AM a very determined amateur... and I'm not leaving until you face me!"

When it replied, the voice sounded very tired... almost, if he didn't know any better, sad. "Go home boy... I have no desire to end your human existence."

"Awfully full of yourself, aren't you?" Robin asked pointedly, somewhat annoyed at the disembodied voice's tone.

The voice said nothing at all. Robin sensed that he was no longer being watched.

He sighed. "It's never easy, damn it." His eyes tried to penetrate the gloom to no avail. He supposed he should feel pretty special... from the apparent lack of empty, rusted armor and the complete lack of spiderwebs and such, he had the feeling he had penetrated farther than any other Knight thus far.

Which was, of course, horribly depressing, considering that he wasn't even really a Knight. Not yet, anyway.

He reached into his belt pouch and removed a small dark grey metal bar with a string attached to it. Robin was an inventive, curious sort, and he didn't let the fact that he could barely see objects five feet away get him down. He'd discovered a strange property of the curious metal the alchemists called Lodestone. When suspended, it invariably pointed North. Some days, he considered traveling far to the North to discover what the Lodestone might be pointing at, but when such flights of fancy had left him, he usually just used it to gain a point of reference when conferring with maps.

He let the Lodestone dangle, watching as it spun curiously to what he THOUGHT was the east.

He mused this over for a moment.

"Let's see... the forest's center should be to the east, but if what I think is east is actually north, then I would have been headed south, and out of the forest entirely. He oriented toward the east in reference to his Lodestone. It felt WRONG to his sense of direction, but this was a witch he was dealing with.

He started out.

As he walked his feet seemed to find a well tended path. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he was wandering down a nice little foot path that had been put up through a garden. Various medicinal and useful herbs greeted him on each side, most of them, he noted, could be brewed into different types of tea.

"A witch with a tea fetish?" He wondered out loud to himself. He shrugged. Stranger things, he guessed. Just look at Sir Percy. If the rumors were true, he liked to dress up in women's clothing. Sir Percy always was a bit... odd.

His sense of direction was telling him he was now headed North, but his Lodestone hadn't wavvered. He continued to push his way through the gloom.

It suddenly ended as though he'd walked through a curtain. He gaped, staring at the oddest little house he'd ever seen.

For one thing, he had to gape upwards to see it. It was suspended thirty feet up in a tree. It almost seemed as though the house had been built around the tree, which seemed an odd and quaint practice to Robin. He'd heard of building things OUT of trees, but never around them before. He cleared his throat.

"Witch of the Wood! Come out and-"

A tired, feminine voice interrupted him. "You again? I thought I told you to..." It paused.

"Hey... how did you find your way in HERE?"

He blinked. "Er... I defeated your foul sorcery and-"

"Right. I suppose that magnet you've got there has nothing to do with it. Very clever, but not the best compass I've ever seen. The Nihongo build much nicer ones."

He blinked. Magnet? Nihongo? Probably some sorcerous incantation. Still, the word compass... that had a nice ring to it. He might have to remember that one.

"Look, you aren't being very accomidating here. I mean, you've killed all the other Knights who came here, but you don't even have the decency to face me..."

The voice turned chilly and dangerous. "Listen here, Knightling. First of all, I didn't ASK anyone to come here, they just keep coming, completely uninvited, I might add. Second, what do you propose I do when some idiot in metal long johns comes bellowing at me swinging an overgrown butcher knife, hmm? Thirdly, I've never killed anyone in my life, though you might manage to make me change that policy if you keep poking your nose where it isn't wanted. Lastly..."

A shadowy figure emerged from the house in the tree, a diminutive, slender figure completely shrouded in a deep blue cloak. Robin's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"I'm facing you now. That doesn't mean I'm going down there."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly what I was expecting."

The figure crossed its arms and cocked its head slightly to the left. He got the distinct impression it was annoyed.

"Really? What were you expecting, some old toothless crone?"

He shook his head. "Well no... but I was kind of expecting you to be well... taller."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. Now please leave before I have to do something you'll regret."

Robin frowned. "You're being awfully passive for a vicious witch. Why are you treating me differently from the other Knights you slaughtered?"

The figure sighed and shook her head. "Listen, you strike me as a reasonably intelligent human being, at least for a would be Knight. Let me ask you a question. Let's say all you want to do is be left alone. Let's say you leave civilization, or at least what passes for civilization in this blasted country, so that you can be left alone, and not bother anyone with your presence. Now let's say these fanatical, completely unreasonable, highly dangerous men in full platemail come barging into your home for no reason other than the fact that your father is a despicable worm of a former human being. What would you do, in that situation?"

He frowned. "I wouldn't kill them... but I can see where that would put a body in an unpleasant position."

She snorted. "Then you understand my position. I can't kill them, but they're dead set on killing me. I'd never intentionally hurt a fly."

He shook his head. "So what you're saying is, you aren't dangerous?"

She sighed. It was a deep, regretful sigh. "I didn't say that. Of course I'm dangerous, that's why I moved out here. So I couldn't hurt anybody. Of course if someone starts attacking me, it tends to make me tense, and when I get tense, I get... destructive."

He blinked. "So... what happened to all the other Knights?"

"I changed them into something harmless."

His eyes widened. "You what?"

She shrugged. "Well, some of them are deer... that last one, I think he said his name was Sir Ambrose, he made a lovely rabbit. I think there's a sparrow or two..."

He gasped. "But that's... that's..."

She turned around, and her voice was cold and ominous. "I don't have to explain myself to you, you have violated my sanctuary, and face me as an uninvited guest meaning me harm in my very home. No matter how backwards Gotham is, it should still recognize politeness and good manners." She paused. "Or perhaps Chivalry has a different meaning when following its tenets becomes inconvenient."

She retreated back into the depths of her home. "Regardless, the choice is yours. Leave now, or stay and face the consequences of your actions. I'm through talking to you."

He blinked quietly, his mouth open in an expression of shock and dismay. For a moment he considered forcing his way into the tree, but reality along with the better part of valor stayed his hand. He really couldn't see any natural means to get into the tree house, and he didn't particularly want to be caught dangling helplessly from a rope by the witch, who was obviously not an idiot. Working through his indignation, he slowly came to a rather distressing conclusion.

She was right.

He sighed, then set about making himself comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

He was in the process of slicing the skin off an apple when a sly voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. He suppressed the natural reaction adeptly, since he'd never give Garfield the satisfaction of seeing him jump.

"Hey buddy, mind sharing that apple with a tired old friend?"

Robin continued peeling the skin off the apple and raised an eyebrow at the talking horse, his deft hands never straying from their appointed task even though he was no longer watching them.

"Amazing how whenever the prospect of food presents itself you somehow manage to grow a spine."

The horse looked offended and more than a little hurt. "Hey! That's uncalled for! I admit, the whole spooky-doom-voice threw me for a loop, but I came back, right? Actually, I tried to come back a right after I left, but I got lost. You wouldn't BELIEVE how thick the fog is around here. If I hadn't run into that rabbit, I don't think I'd have ever found this place."

Robin blinked. "The what?"

"Rabbit man, you know? Fluffy bunny with the cute widdle nose and the cotton tail? Little known fact is, the things are practically little more than hopping stomachs with an overgrown libido, so when I saw that little furball moving in a determined fashion I figured at the least he'd either lead me to food or another rabbit, and damned if I didn't come across just the cutest little garden with a lovely little footpath with the shrubberies set just so, and-"

Robin made a face. "Nevermind, I get the picture. That was probably Sir Ambrose, by the way. Apparently all the Knights who have come before us got the transmograficational whammy laid on 'em."

Garfield shook his head, making his mane shiver. "Dude, that's rough. Well at least they aren't dead, right? The King's wisemen can sort 'em out soon enough." He looked around. "So... where's the crone, huh? Was she tough? Did she bite? You know they say those old biddies can put up a helluva a fight when you get 'em cornered."

"You might want to keep your voice down, Gar. She's still alive, and probably within earshot." Robin finished his skinning of the apple and proceeded to carve it into fourths.

The apples in the audience turn away in disgust and horror.

"What! You mean she's still alive and kicking? What happened, man!"

Robin made a face. "Well, aside from the obvious fact that she's a little difficult to reach..." He pointed the knife at the tree house which Garfield only just noticed. He whistled.

"She's not exactly what I was led to expect. I mean, when all those Knights one after another failed to come back after all the terrible things they had faced before, she sort of became like a demon to me. I've had nightmares about facing her, about what it would be like. I was steeling myself for the confrontation of a lifetime, and she turned out to be remarkably... well..."

The horse watched him skeptically. "Yeah?"

"Reasonable." He said finally. "I mean really, why WERE all of those Knights sent to kill her? Here she is, out in the middle of nowhere, not bothering anybody, when a horde of righteous warriors descend on her with the intention of grievous bodily harm... it just doesn't seem fair to me."

Garfield sighed deeply, collapsing onto his equine side and vigerously rubbing his flank in the dirt. Robin wrinkled his nose at the antic.

"Oh come off it, you try scratching them hard to reach places when you ain't got hands. Ahhh man, I've been wanting to do that for an hour now. Anyway, are you nucking futs? There are like, a billion prophecies about how this broad is gonna END the world, and her father turned Azarath into a smoking, glowing crater."

"Don't you listen to the bedtime stories, man? Supposedly he teaches her everything she knows about the Dark Arts, and she knocks over dear old dad to start her own evil empire. Only get this, the bastard is SO FRIGGIN' EVIL, Hell kicks him out, and now he's some kind of terrible necromantic beastie who never ventures out of the aforementioned glowing crater, gathering all manner of terrible creatures to his beck and call. If that's not a sterling example of great reasons to bring someone to justice, what the heck is?"

Robin sighed. "Yeah yeah, I know all the stories. I was there when the king called all his councelors into session when she just decided to move into the woods right at the edge of our borders. The thing is, who WRITES these prophecies, really? I mean, our Seer is a man who only bathes if he happens to get caught out in the rain, and who once spent an entire evening talking to a FERN, and it wasn't even a living fern! Does that strike you as someone who can be relied upon to accurately predict the future?"

He paused.

"Look, I'm not saying I want to marry her for crying out loud. I'm just saying it's obvious the offensive approach isn't working, so maybe we need to be a bit diplomatic about this."

The horse snorted and rolled over to his other flank. "Right, Pardon me miss Evil Witch, would you mind terribly coming with us back to Gotham, so that you can be tried and convicted of Witchcraft? I've heard that stakes are all the rage, these days. Of course you have to stay away from open flames and all, but... oh silly me, did I drop that torch? Oh fiddlesticks, how clumsy of me."

Robin snorted, and managed to look indignant. Barely. "Stop it. All I'm saying is, maybe it's possible this is all just a big misunderstanding. I am honor bound to bring her back to Gotham dead or alive, and so that's what I'm going to do, but no one ever said that she had to be in chains or anything. If she comes of her own free will to talk it out with the King, maybe we can solve this without bloodshed. Now quit rolling around and hold still so I can get my stuff off of you, before you crush it any worse than you already have. This promises to be a long wait."

* * *

He had just barely settled in for the evening when he got the distinct impression he was being watched.

Garfield, as was his typical practice, had fallen into a light doze standing up, his knees locked to prevent him from falling over. In this stage of sleep he had developed a strange, whistling sort of snore, which Robin had grown so used to it no longer had any conscious effect on him.

His small, well tended fire popped and hissed merrily, several large tubers dug up around the forest cooking merrily. Normally Robin would intersperse a bit of meat from some luckless fowl or small animal he had caught during the day, but the thought of accidentally consuming any of his comrades in arms turned his stomach severely.

Fortunately, like many individuals used to living outdoors for long periods of time, he had gotten used to foraging for himself, and while not the choicest form of sustenance, the tubers tasted quite good when properly cooked.

He was in the process of turning each of the 6 inch tubers when he felt eyes upon him.

After a momentary glance upward, he continued with his routine, ignoring the figure above watching him quietly.

"Do you feel some pressing need to be a ground squirrel?" A voice asked him dryly, with, he imagined he could detect, more than a hint of irritation present.

He brushed his hands together and straightened, looking up the cloaked figure with a quiet nod of greeting.

"Not particularly. I've always fancied myself a hunting bird of some sort, but I suppose being a ground squirrel would have its own benefits."

She crossed her arms. "You really should have taken me seriously. I told you-"

"I'm sorry." He said simply.

Again, a whisper of something other than cold disdain, a hint of confusion. "What?"

He smiled quietly. "Oh, forgive me, I should do this the right way." He doffed his large green hat with it's plumbed red feather (it had a habit of shading his eyes) and knelt, his eyes focusing on the dirt in front of him.

"My intrusion unto thy grounds was uncalled for, milady. I have most rudely entered thine abode without thy permission, and would beg thine forgiveness."

She snorted. "Your courtly speech sucks."

He shrugged. "It's been a while, but for what it's worth, I was being sincere. I am sorry I barged into your household like this. It was rather rude of me."

She sighed, exasperated. "The best way you could apologize for barging in is leaving... but I get the feeling that isn't going to happen, is it?"

He smiled apologetically. "I can't. Rude or not, I have been charged by the King to bring you to justice. Upon my honor, I can't just leave."

She turned slightly, showing her profile. Though the deep hooded cloak still hid her countenance from his view, the light from the fire flickering on the eyes and something else, high on her forehead. He blinked.

-A diadem or crown of some sort? She doesn't strike me as the type. I must have just been seeing things.-

She laughed, a trifle bitterly. "Honor. Justice. Words, Knightling. They mean nothing to men of power, but a vehicle for getting their way and appearing noble as they do so. I have had my fill of honor, and I will find no justice with your King."

"They aren't just words." He said flatly. "Honor is a code by which I live by. I have tried my whole life to do the right, honorable, and just thing, and I believe in my King."

"Then you are a fool." She hissed bitterly. "Justice is only for men of means, not for those outcast. You-" She visibily restrained herself, sinking back into the shadows. A strange bluish light flickered momentarily and the fire blazed deep crimson for a split second.

He watched it for a moment, considering the ramifications of this display of power, then looked upward.

"You can't control it completely, can you?" He asked softly. "It isn't your fault, is it?"

"You walk a very thin line, Knightling."

He shrugged. "Perhaps. Justice isn't just for rich folk. I should know. I wasn't always a kni..." He grinned sheepishly. "A squire. The Code of Chivalry requires impartiality and fairness, each man and woman matters equally where justice is concerned. The King is also a Knight, and a hero at that."

She slipped away from view. "The only thing I have even less use for than Knights and Knightlings are heroes."

"Robin." He said quietly.

"What?"

"My name is Robin. Not Knightling, not boy. Robin."

She turned once. "So?"

He smiled softly. "The polite thing to do would be to introduce yourself as well."

That dark, empty hood faced his direction for some time, as though she was trying to find a way out of his logic. After a moment, she turned away.

"Raven. You'd better be gone in the morning, or I forsee a large amount of nuts in your future."

He took a deep breath, resettled his hat upon his head, then settled down to his meal.

The tubers were overcooked and terribly hard to chew through, but he smiled as he ate them anyway.

Any sort of progress was better than nothing.


	2. Iunctio

A/N: So here we come to chapter two of this little roadtrip into AU territory, and I have to apologize. For some reason my muse wanted to be very serious and more than a little over-dramatic today... suffice to say that while I tried to inject little bits of humor into the mix, the result was tentative at best. Still, for some reason a plot has surfaced in this little story, though I fear I may be pacing it a bit too fast... 

Eh. In any case, for those of you who miss the other titans, never fear... the fantasy versions of Starfire and Cyborg are forthcoming. Hold your horses.

A further note... most of the latin used in this chapter was translated (poorly) by myself. Now if I were you people, I'd be burning to know what the translation of the last incantation is. Well folks, I'll give you a hint... it's an actual incantation used in a song. If you can send me an accurate translation (I have the translation already, by the way) of the latin used in this chapter, I'll be impressed. If you can give me the name of the band as well, I'll not only be impressed, the next chapter of The Witch's Knight will be sent to you a full two days before anyone else gets to see it.

How's that for cool beans, eh? I only do it because I just know it's gonna drive some of you folks crazy trying to figure out what he was trying to do. Mwahahaha.

* * *

"There is a place far from her home, she strayed her path too long. And in that wood, she found the stone, lost souls should never look upon. At first glance, a lone monolith... lifeless cold and grey. She looked in deep, that timeless relic. The lost fall easy prey. Come into my world my child, I will take you home. I'm your Reaping Stone. Think not of ones you've lost nor of ones you leave. I shall give you strength to pass. I shall set you free. Come into my world my child, I will take you home. I'm your Reaping Stone. Come into my world my child, you'll never be alone. I'm your Reaping Stone." -The Reaping Stone, Iced Earth

* * *

He woke suddenly, the sensation that he was being watched causing his hand to unconsciously slip to the staff on his side. 

He was no longer in a forest. In fact, what he looked upon appeared to be...

A battlefield.

Robin stood confusedly and glared at the world around him in stubborn denial. Closing his eyes, he centered himself.

"When I open my eyes, the crazy will all go away. I will be back in the forest with my talking horse, stalking a witch who has threatened to turn me into a ground squirrel."

The irony of his statement made him furrow his brow and he simply opened his eyes.

The battlefield was still there.

He let out a great sigh. Not one to agonize over things he had no control over, he simply crouched down low and advanced to the edge of the hillock he was currently occupying.

Silvery metal in a row, figures in fantastical platemail, visored helms staring intently. The standards of war decrying different units surrounding in protective formation a single contingent of blue robed figures. They faced him, their penants cracking smartly in the morning breeze.

He blinked. Why were they facing him? He studied the heraldic symbols, something he had studied in his efforts to become a Knight, but it took him several seconds to remember long forgotten historic symbols. The Silver Hand? The Sons of Light?

These were units long destroyed. Companies of knights fabled and remembered in song and tale.

The lost army of the Kingdom of Azarath. A Kingdom that had been destroyed utterly more than a century ago.

A grey haired man in splendid midnight blue robes hemmed in silver denoting him as some sort of Archmagus stepped forward, his face disdainful and angry.

"Trigonus! There is nowhere for you to hide! Demon of a man! Release my daughter! Your reign is at an end"

Robin raised an eyebrow and winced. "I think I've been Draumatized."

A baritone voice smooth and vicious echoed in derisive laughter. Robin started, then looked at the base of the hillock. A man in red robes, his silver hair flowing down his back like a mane of mercury stood with his head thrown back. Next him, a beautiful woman with amethyst hair pulled back in a severe poney tail stood silently, her eyes vacant. The man in the red robes allowed his voice to quiet to an amused chuckle, his hand caressing the womans arm possessively. She shuddered slightly at the touch, but that was her only reaction.

"Hide? Hide, Azaron? What need have I to hide? I'm simply tired of you chasing me about the countryside with your pitiful band of lickspittles. Did it not occur to you that if I were truely RUNNING from you I would find a better place to flee to than the kingdom you call home."

He scoffed. "Furthermore, my wife is free to leave at any time. Aren't you, Arella?" He purred.

The woman never turned her gaze away from the army. She simply answered in a subdued monotone.

"Yes, Lord."

He smiled. "And do you wish to leave?"

Something tensed in her body language and Trigonis narrowed his eyes. She stilled and turned her face to him. From his angle he could see the sadness and resignation in her eyes.

"No, Lord."

He turned to Azaron and shrugged. "You see? She's gotten quite... attached. Seventeen years is a long time, Azaron. Why, we've even had a child together. You might as well call me son in law."

Azaron scowled, his eyes flashing in fury. "You have perverted our most sacred bond, Trigonus. Your lust for power has driven you mad. Any ties you have to my daughter are but shackles! I WILL free her."

Trigonus shook his head and smirked. "No. You will not."

Azaron clenched his fist and gestured with the other hand angrily. "Enough of this! Attack!"

The army started forward, a cry of war resounding as though screamed from a single throat. Trigonus grinned and gestured almost negligently, his fingers contorting into strange gestures fluidly. Strange symbols that hurt the eye with their sheer wrongness appeared before him.

"Abyssus Militis invocat!"

A rumble caused the army to stumble and mill about confusedly, some continuing the charge forward. Brave men, throwing themselves at what by all accounts was the single greatest Infernist to ever live. Despite the strangely whimsical sense of lassitude that was upon him, Robin's warrior heart ached in sympathy.

Those righteous few who charged forward screaming their fury were the first to die.

They were not the last.

A tear opened up in the verdant ground, earth falling away into a shadowy rift. The earth tumbled strangely though, as though throw a thick, viscous soup. The first knights to reach it similarly began to sink, shrieking and only now trying to turn away.  
Things began to rise from the abyss, dark plate armor like the irridescent shells of beetles, breastplates helms and arm greaves covered in nightmarish spikes, with gauntlets clutching weapons designed for the application of painful and torturous death. Their red eyes burned with malignant glee inside their visors. From the waist down they were simply smoky tenebrous clouds, trailing wisps of darkness that turned the grass to dust where they touched.

Trigonus grinned and lowered his hands, blood dripping sluggishly from his palms. Though pale, his face was triumphant.

"Kill them all."

The Hell Knights dipped as though bowing, then turned and shrieked like children being skinned alive. The silvery army began to hesitate, fear striking each man like a palpable fist. The Hell Knights used this hesitation to rush forward, moving as though on horseback. They passed through the army, slaying as they went.

Their shrieks were joined by the shrieks of men and beasts.

The cloaked figures began to assist the knights, chanting and invoking their own spells. Rays of light, bolts of lightning, even a strange greenish tinged rain fell upon the Hell Knights. Some of the army was caught in the crossfire. The magical fury spared no one.  
Meanwhile, Archmagus Azaron scowled and tossed back his sleeves.

"Very well, Infernist. I gave you the opportunity to surrender. This will be our last duel."

He began his own invocations.

Trigonus smirked. "How pragmatic of you. Very well."

The magical duel raged back and forth, blasting great furrows in the earth where the killing spells were cast forth and deflected by charms and protections. Robin shook his head at the devestation. Something about any single man wielding such power filled him with anger.

Finally the Archmagus scowled, fatigue and anger warring for control of his features. He slumped to one knee.

Trigonus hadn't even broken a sweat, though Arella swayed and whimpered, her features drawn and pale. Robin sensed that there was a connection between the two, and that the Infernist was drawing power from her like a leech. He clenched his fists in impotent fury. What the hell was going on? This was obviously the Battle of Azarath, but the Witch was nowhere to be seen, and by all accounts she had factored heavily in the battle. This wasn't what history said had happened here!

Trigonus shook his head. "You were foolish to attempt this, old man. Such an ignoble end for the great Archmagus Azaron."

Azaron smiled coldly. "Look around you, Infernist. The noose tightens upon your throat. You should have remembered that wards and runes were always my speciality."

Trigonus frowned. "What?"

Azaron raised his hands and began to chant in a voice hoarse with exhaustion and pain.

"Periurium dominus, gravo plecto aliquem capite."

It was Trigonus' turn to stumble to one knee, clutching his chest in agony. Blood leaked sluggishly from his mouth. The great furrows torn in the earth now glowed with an unearthly white light, revealing the Archmagus' master stroke.

A circle of judgement had been laid without the Infernist's awareness.

"Damn you..." He sputtered, his hand clenching on Arella's arm hard enough to draw blood. He was now bleeding from every oriface, from the pores of his skin, even from beneath his fingernails. The Hell Knights hesitated, then faded with howls of frustrated rage. Arella and Trigonus' blood mingled. His eyes widened in recognition, then he drew himself to his feet and lifted his head, a painful smile coated in blood upon his lips. His eyes bled freely.

The Archmagus winced and stood, swaying slightly on his feet. He leaned heavily upon his staff. After panting a mment, he raised one bushy eyebrow and scowled. "Release her, Trigonus. You have lost."

Trigonus raised blind eyes to the sky.

"Ab Aeterno..."

The sky turned black in an instant. The Archmagus gasped. "No!"

"Ad limina Mortem et extra..."

Swaying with the effort to continue the Judgement Curse, the Archmagus leaned heavily upon his staff and shook his head. Winds began to howl as a black rain fell cold and stinging from the dark skies. Where it touched it turned silver metal to rusted, age old ruin. Bodies burst from foulness and corruption, spewing foul humors into the bloodsoaked ground.

"You cannot! It is forbidden! Trigonis!"

"Abyssus, Abyssum invocat..."

"Mother STOP!"

The voice drew both Robin and the Archmagus' attention. It was a feeble cry drawn out almost involuntarily and torn upon the winds, yet it echoed across the battlefield.

The Archmagus turned desperately to the only cloaked figure still standing beside him, his face torn by strain and dismay. He had to shout to be heard in the screaming winds.

"Raven! You must stop him! She is lost to us!"

The cloaked figure advanced from the Archmagus' side, her hand outstretched beseechingly.

"Mother, FIGHT HIM"

Arella continued to stare blindly.

Trigonus continued his dire chanting. If he recognized his wayward daughter he gave no indication.

"E tenebris, Veteris vestigia flammae ardere denuo..."

The Archmagus winced suddenly, dropping his staff. Clutching at his chest he gasped.

"Raven... you... must..."

Raven turned to him and clenched her fists. "I CAN'T!"

"Iure Sanguinis, Mors tua, vita mea aeternum..."

The Archmagus crumpled to the bloodstained earth, his face pale. He gasped for breath.

Trigonus face was now a mask of blood and ripped muscle. A skeletal grin transfigured his features, yet still the corpse continued to chant beyond human endurance. Arella grew paler and paler as the chant continued, her flesh withering and dying by inches.

Raven reached out one last time.

"Mother..."

Arella closed her eyes.

"Terra es, terram ibis..."

Raven's hand turned to a fist. She began to glow with a strange bluish light. When she opened her eyes they glowed a fiery crimson.

Trigonus continued. The winds whipped away what remained of his silvery hair. He was little more than a bloody skeleton held upright by terrible will and whatever eldritch connection bound the hapless Sorceress to him. Arella's left arm cracked with the sound of breaking branches and the limb crumbled into dust.

The Archmagus let out one last bubbly cry of dismay then collapsed onto his face. His fine robes fluttered about him. The head of his staff winked out like a candle in a windstorm.

"Ecce quomodo Moritur, hoc sustinate damnosa heredit- accckk!"

Robin's eyes widened. The scene seemed frozen. The cloaked Raven, who he knew as the Witch, had screamed a wordless cry of fury, and a bolt of something terrible had streaked towards the Infernist.

No... not the Infernist... Robin shook his head in sadness.

Arella finally gasped, a fist sized hole appearing right through the center of her chest. She touched it wonderingly, like a child exploring something unexpected.

She looked up.

The Witch lowered her hand. "Forgive me..." She whispered. She lowered her head.

"Raven..." Arella said faintly. Her words did not reach the Witch, torn apart by the wind, yet by some quirk the sound reached Robin's ears. With her head lowered Raven couldn't see the faint smile that flickered across her mother's lips.

"Thank you..." She whispered. Then she crumbled to ash in an instant, lost on the winds.

Trigonus slumped forward, his incantation lost in a shriek of agony. Reddish smoke infused him, hiding him behind a cloud of crimson mist. Raven lifted her face quizzically past the cloud of red and stared directly at Robin.

He blinked.

"You should not be here..." She whispered.

Robin blinked again. "You're telling me?"

The red cloud became charged with a dark energy, and the whole world seemed to contract to a single point within it. The Witch turned and winked out of existence, fleeing what was happening.

Robin raised a hand. "Wait!"

A crackling sound drew his attention to the cloud. The mist had contracted to a single blood-red sphere. The crackling was caused by tendrils of energy that wisped off from it.

Robin winced. "Aw... crap."

It exploded. The world flashed white...

Robin "said howdy" do to Oblivion.

* * *

"Robin! Dude, are you alright?" 

Robin's eyes fluttered and he stared up into a bristle haired muzzle and a huge pair of nostrils. Starting, he slammed his forehead into the muzzle and cried out.

"Yahh!"

"OW... my dose..." The horse staggered back and collapsed onto his rump, his head shaking from side to side.  
Robin rubbed his head and scowled.

"What the hell was that about?"

The horse cocked his head irritably and snorted. "You tell me, sleeping beauty. You were tossing and turning all night. What was that, hmm?"

He turned sly. "You weren't having a naughty dream, were you?"

Robin raised an eyebrow and gave him a dubious look. "Not unless you call infernal magic, mass destruction, and large quantities of blood sexy."

The horse blinked. "I always knew you were kinky, Rob old boy, but I had no idea. What would they even CALL that?"

Robin rolled his eyes. "Please." He blinked, then smirked a little. "Hey Garfield, your ass is in the fire."

The horse blinked. "Aw come on, Robin. I was just ribbin' ya. Nothing serious. You don't have to get all pissy."

Robin gestured. "No, I mean your ass is really IN the fire."

Garfield cocked his head again, then looked down.

"That would explain the cooking smell." He said reasonably.

The next few minutes were spent with the horse running pell mell about the camp scattering cinders and Robin's meager possessions all around the clearing. Robin simultaneously tried to chase the panicked equine, remove the hot coals from the horse's flank, and avoid being trampled at the same time.

It wasn't exactly morning coffee, but it woke him up well enough.

The inclusion of a smoking crater about three inches from the horses right front hoof stopped the production dead in its tracks.  
Robin and the horse looked upward.

"I told you to leave, and instead you reenacted the siege of Karnos on my front lawn. So which are side are you, Knightling? The Karnoites or the Tillian Brotherhood?"

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Well, seeing as how they both got ambushed and wiped out by a third party..."

He winced, having gotten her point a bit too late. "Oh man, I walked right into that one."

The Witch hovered above them in stunning defiance of gravity. Her fingertip still smoked.

"Hmm. So. Not entirely uneducated, I see."

Robin shrugged. "I like to read." He said, a tad defensively. "Is that a crime?"

The Witch started, then lowered her hand and shook her head. "No. No, it's not. Though to hear some people tell it..."

Garfield leaned in and stage whispered to Robin. "Dude... you never told me you were a book nerd! You two have something in common. That's cute, in a, what the hell are you thinking she's evil not to mention old enough to be your grandmother's grandmother sort of way."

The Witch sighed. "And another childhood dream shatters beyond repair. I'd always wondered what horses would say if they could speak. Apparently the answer is, nothing worth hearing."

Robin snorted in amusement despite himself. The horse in question gave him a betrayed look. "Dude... weak."

The Witch turned. "In any case, I suggest you hurry. In a week or two the snows will make the mountain pass back to Gotham proper inaccessable. You'll have to curve around the moutains to the south, and the Kandarians have a particular love of horses."

She snorted. "Well... their flesh, anyway."

Garfield froze, then began wandering about the camp nosing Robin's scattered possessions in a pile.

"We need to leave. Like, now."

Robin cocked his head. "I thought I was going to be a nutlover come sun-up."

Raven crossed her arms and stared at him. It was still impossible to see into her hood but he caught that flash of something shiny again high on the forehead. A flicker of something undefinable rose in him and he blinked at the strangeness of it. She immediately broke even that small amount of contact.

"Things have changed, Knightling. It is even more imperative that you leave as soon as possible."

Robin frowned. "What changed? Was turning me into a squirrel just an idle threat?" His frown became a scowl. "You turned all my comrades into animals! What, I don't even merit that level of consideration?"

He could hear the incredulous scowl in her voice. "Will you listen to yourself? I can't believe you'd even begin to take offense at me NOT turning you into a fuzzy animal. Besides, it wasn't a threat, it was a warning. As I said, however, the situation has changed." She quieted, oddly subdued.

"They do that, I fear, when I'm involved."

He blinked in sudden realization. "The dream..."

She sighed tiredly. "That... was not a dream."

He frowned. "What was it then?"

She slowly floated down to his level and sighed, one pale, delicate and long fingered hand pushing back the hood of the cloak. Robin stared at her open mouthed.

She was... beautiful. Not in a classical sense. Certainly no odes to her undying beauty would be written by any lovestruck poets. Perhaps striking would be a better term for her. Poetry didn't do her justice. It was an alien sort of beauty. Amethyst colored hair cut short, her bangs longer than the sides or back. She was slight and very very pale, as though she didn't get enough sun, and her bone structure was birdlike and fragile looking. A small jewel winked on her forehead like a third eye. She wouldn't meet his eyes, always staring just to the left of his astonished gaze or to the right, or at his mouth. She definately wasn't old. In fact she looked about his age.

He swallowed heavily.

"Look... Robin, what happened last night shouldn't have happened. I can only surmise that whatever gods that exist are exceedingly cruel..." She hesitated.

He watched her carefully, his initial surprise turning to concern. "It really happened didn't it?"

She nodded mutely.

He cocked his head. "You lied to me. About never killing anyone."

Her face betrayed an instant of pain and he immediately regretted what he said.

"Hey... I'm sorry, that was..."

She shook her head. "No... no that IS what it looked like. I suppose I did lie... in a manner of speaking. I killed her body, yes. Her soul... it had been dead a long time. What I... it was a shell."

He frowned, but didn't argue with her. Instead he changed the subject. "How... WHY did I see that?"

She turns her gaze to him again. "It is difficult to explain without putting you in danger. Well, more danger than you are in now. Suffice to say that you are safe from my magic... I cannot afford the cost touching you with my power would exact. It is all the more necessary for you to leave. Please. Before it is too late."

Robin crossed his arms and looked stubborn. "Being evasive and speaking in riddles is not a good way to earn trust, Raven. Besides, even if I wanted to, which I don't, I can't leave. I already told you."

She sighed. "Yes... honor. You can imagine how I feel about that. I recall that honor did my grandfather's men very little good, in the end."

His mouth tightened and narrowed his eyes. "I can't exactly argue with that, but cheapening their sacrifice to win an argument is hardly what I would call just. Besides, sometimes all that matters is that someone stood up and was counted."

Her mouth dropped open for a split second before she managed to control her reaction and she turned slightly.

"Touche."

An irritated voice broke the intensity of the moment like an outburst of flatulence.

"Are you two done flirting, because I would really like to get the hell out of here."

Robin rounded on the green horse irritably and thus missed the indignant look on Raven's face.

"We are NOT flirting, and you and I are NOT leaving either."

Garfield dropped the bundle he had gripped between his lips and stared at Raven, his head raising in surprise.

"Wow. You're pretty well preserved for an old chick. How many virgin bloodbaths did THAT take?"

Robin gaped. "Garfield!"

Garfield gave him an incredulous look. "What? It's a valid question! She's a Witch, man! It comes with the territory."

Raven raised one fine eyebrow before fixing Robin with a decidedly unamused stare.

"Your friend lacks tact as well as opposable thumbs."

Robin glared at him. "My friend apparently lacks a sense of self preservation as well."

Garfield gave an equine whicker. "Thumbs are over-rated when you have people to do your grasping for you. Relax, Rob. She already said she couldn't cast any spells on us."

Raven shook her head. "I said that I wouldn't, not that I couldn't. I was also only referring to Robin when I said that. You are aware that there are worse things to be than a talking green horse. A talking green horse that HAS opposable thumbs, for one."

One might have said that a green horse with a singed ass couldn't possibly look more ridiculous than it already did just from the sheer fact that it was, in fact, a green horse with a singed ass. Garfield somehow managed to give a lie to that observation, however, as he attempted to hide his four hundred fifty pound bulk behind a one hundred fifty pound squire.

Robin sighed. "He's not normally like this. Admittedly he suffers from the delusion that he's some sort of comedian, but he usually only inflicts it on people he's comfortable around."

She shrugs. "No, no it actually makes sense. I mean, what COULD be worse than being hounded by an honor obsessed, stubborn, reckless Knightling?"

He smirked. "Being hounded by an honor obsessed, stubborn, reckless Knightling with a wise-cracking, smart assed, heckling loud mouth green warhorse."

Despite herself her lips quirked into a very slight smile. "Exactly."

They both realized, a few seconds later, that they were staring. She started and turned away, floating back up towards her house. He removed his hat and rubbed his hair, looking embarassed.

She turned as she floated upward and frowned. "If you're going to clutter up my lawn the least you can do is make yourself useful. Do you have any experience with gardening?"

He blinked. "Um... that's not really a course of study in the Knight's academy."

She shook her head and retreated into the treehouse without another word.


	3. Memoria

A/N: Well, this story has begun to evolve something resembling a plot, and I can't say I'm terribly surprised or sorry. When I first started writing this story, I had intended to keep it pretty funny throughout, and certainly there will continue to be moments of humor, but now that I know what I'm doing with it, I think I'm going to continue in the way I have thus far. 

I'm sorry if this disappoints any of you.

I just know I'm going to get some smartass telling me that Robin's backstory isn't like this in the series. This actually is a sticking point with me, and I wanted to address it in the author's note, so that when the inevitable "critic" who mentions this rears their ugly head, I can point to the author's note and say, I told you so, and WHY.

As mentioned in the summary, this is an AU, or Alternate Universe, for the unlettered. I write alternate universes a little differently than most people, in that if the setting is different, IE, if the series was contemporary super hero and I'm changing it to high fantasy, I don't keep the people's back stories the same. However, people are largely what they are due to the experiences they have had to weather, so while the back stories change to match the setting, I try to keep the character fundamentally unchanged, at their core, by those changes. In order to do this, the things which shape them tend to be similiar.

If that makes any sense.

So while I understand that the person Robin is wasn't created in the fashion he was here... in this setting, this is a situation which would have created a person SIMILIAR to the Robin from Teen Titans, and gives the character an underlying motivation SIMILIAR to what he had in the series. Personally, I think it's cool that I was able to do this, and it also makes for a very cool ongoing plot, as you will eventually see.

Still, SOMEONE isn't going to read this Author's Note, and SOMEONE is going to comment that Robin's backstory didn't go this way, you watch.

C'est la vie.

I'm finding it difficult to find time and energy to write... I decided to go back to school for my degree and juggling that with my other obligations is sapping my creativity. Despite this, I have found the time to release the longest chapter for this story I've written to date. I hope that you enjoy it, and bear with me. Sometimes fun has to take a backseat to responsibility. That's, sadly, a lot of what being an adult is about. You will note, however, that I still make time for fun, and for me, writing is fun.

I hope reading is fun for you.

As a final note, the song quote this time has been divided into two parts because I wanted to emphasize the second part. This song is one of my favorites songs from my favorite band, Rush. In particular, I think we need to heed those words now.

* * *

"In the house where nobody laughs, and nobody speaks. In the house where love lies dying, and the shadows creep. A little girl hides shaken, with her hands on her ears. Push back the tears, until the pain disappears. Mama said some ugly words, daddy pounds the walls. They can fight about their little girl later, right now they don't care at all. No matter what they say... Everyday people, everyday shame. Everyday promise, shot down in flames. Everyday sunrise, another everyday story. Rise from the ashes and blaze, in everyday glory. In the city where nobody smiles, and nobody dreams. In the city where desperation, drives the poor to extremes. Just one spark of decency, against the starless night. One glow of hope and dignity, a child can follow the light. No matter what they say... Everyday people, everyday shame. Everyday promise, shot down in flames. Everyday sunrise, another everyday story. Rise from the ashes and blaze, in everyday glory.

If the future's looking dark, we're the ones who have to shine. If there's no one in control, we're the ones who draw the line. Though we live in trying times, we're the ones who have to try. Though we know that time has wings, we're the ones who have to fly..." -Everyday Glory, Rush

* * *

There was something, Robin decided, deeply soothing about working in a garden. He supposed it had something to do with working with ones hands. The scent of deeply fertile earth, the orderly, tidy rows of herbs, the rich, slightly eldritch scent of unknown spices, it all blended together to create a sort of non-mindset that was both deeply pleasing and highly relaxing. After a remarkably short time, Robin forgot that he was a Knight (well, almost) with a sacred duty to uphold the wishes of his King.

He was just Robin, puttering about in the dirt, digging little rows and turning the fecund soil. He even forgot he wasn't alone after awhile, and started whistling.

That brought a decidedly unladylike snort from his companion.

He started despite himself, and cast a look backwards at his gardening companion. A little bucket of seeds followed her obediantly like a well-trained... er, something. Every once in a while she'd reach behind her, pick a seed out and drop it into a little hole she'd dug with a perfectly ordinary little spade she had for the job, then cover it up gently with dirt pushed into place with her palms. This was sometimes broken up by a momentary struggle between her and a recalcitrant weed. He'd offered to pull the weeds for her, but she'd countered this with a frankly uncomplimentary stare, and a dry, clinical, and absolutely brutal line of questioning in regards to his ability to differentiate between weeds and a rare and valuable herb. He had wisely shut his mouth and returned to manual labor after that. In any case, after a very short and vicious battle with said vegetation, she would inevitably emerge the victor.

He paused, watching her face. There was no change in her rather neutral expression, but there WAS a subtle softening of its delicate planes and angles. The morning was surprisingly kind to the young looking witch, and her entirely too pale skin fairly gleamed in the morning light. A stray strand of amethyst hair danced across her left cheek and she absently pushed it aside, leaving a slight smudge of earth in its wake. He raised an eyebrow, bemused at this telling show of humanity.

"You might find it easier to keep a straight line if your attention remains upon the task in front of you, Squire." She said dryly without ever looking up.

He looked down and scowled at the slightly crooked line he'd created. The perfectionist in him made him push the dirt back into place and start over again.

"I'm surprised your equine companion isn't here to make a mess of the proceedings." She remarked offhand, tugging at a particularly stubborn bit of tresspassing vegetation with one small hand.

Robin grinned at that. "Oh you don't know Garfield very well yet, or you'd know that anything that smacks of work is like horse repellant for him." He cracked his neck and looking musingly in the direction of the treehouse. You couldn't quite see it from here.

He sighed. "Of course, It doesn't help that you scare the crap out of him."

She sighed. "Well... at least ONE of you is sensible."

He chuckled slightly.

She frowned at the weed and pulled a little harder, this time with both hands.

He frowned. "I don't get it."

"It's not terribly difficult to "get", Squire. I'm sure you've heard the stories about how terrible I am, and the evidence of my transformations are all over these woods. I've already told you that I'm dangerous, so the animal is being sensible-"

"No, I got that. I meant something else."

The weed finally came loose with a spray of dirt and Raven grunted slightly in satisfaction before tossing it into the pile. She rubbed the dirt from her palms and gave him a cold look.

"I know you meant something else. I was being deliberately obtuse in the hopes of defusing further attempts at small talk."

He frowned and turned around to stare at her directly. Once again her eyes slide away from his face, staring off into the woods.

"It doesn't suit you." He said calmly. "You are many things, but I'm coming to find out that you are most definately NOT obtuse."

He grinned. "So far, you've been an acute pain in the arse."

Having scored this verbal point, he turned back to his duties. He could almost feel her glare on his back. It felt like victory. Well, that and vaguely alarming, impending ruination, but Robin had found that the two sensations intermixed more often than he'd care to admit.

A sigh behind him made him pause and he cocked a sidelong glance in her direction.

"What don't you "get", Robin?" She said grudgingly.

He gave her a slight half-smile. "Your magic. You use it in every day tasks... like that bucket, for example, but you spend half a day of toil pulling weeds when you could probably just, POW! magic them into something fairly inoffensive, like dust or something..."

He paused, considering. "Pulling them all by hand... not a very efficient use of one's time and effort, if you ask me."

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose this observation comes from your vast storehouse of magical knowledge and years of experience in matters arcane and esoteric?" She said, sarcasm practically dripping from her every word.

He grinned. Damned if he wasn't really starting to enjoy himself. "So educate me." He said reasonably.

She narrowed her eyes at this and frowned. "You wouldn't underst-"

He shook his finger at her. "Ah. Ah. Ah. I think we've established that I'm a reasonably intelligent individual-"

"The court is still out on THAT one." She groused quietly.

"-so my comprehension of the topic is hardly an issue." He continued, ignoring her comment.

She puffed out her left cheek with her tongue for a moment, eyes unfocused in consideration, then sighed.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt anything, and I am categorically for anything enacting the banishment of ignorance in any form."

She turned slightly and gathered her legs underneath her, sticking the small spade into the dirt and frowning in concentration.

"First off, what do you know about the Three-Fold Law?"

Robin narrowed his eyes. "Er... that it has three parts?"

She looked upwards. "Lord and Lady give me strength."

Robin frowned. He liked learning new things, but one thing he hated was being condescended to. "Alright, we've established that I am woefully ignorant where magic is concerned. It's honestly never come up before. If this is going to be such a trial, then you can forget it."

Raven narrowed her eyes. She hadn't been condescending, at least, she hadn't intentionally been so. One might remember, however, that she had spent the better part of a century alone, and she wasn't much of a great speaker when she HAD been socially active.

Well... she wouldn't have if she'd ever BEEN socially active.

Which she hadn't. Right.

"You DID ask, in the first place."

The two glared at each other for a good long time, neither giving an inch. Finally, Robin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, I get it... I'm sorry. Please continue."

She blinked, then took a deep breath and let it out, centering herself. She began.

"The Three Fold Law is the foundation upon which all true magical works are built. They are laws to which all things must conform. Magic is a powerful, reality bending force, but even it obeys this simple precept."

She eyed him to see if he was following, and since he was carefully watching her, stone-faced in concentration, she continued.

"The first part of the Three Fold Law is simple, all things that exist are made up of smaller parts. This is relatively easy to explain... a human body is made up of various organs and tissues, those tissues in turn are made up of smaller pieces and humours, and so on and so forth. More importantly, the physical world is a conglomeration of plants, animals, people, and such. The connection is not necessarily directly evident, but without people, a city does not exist, without trees, a forest does not exist, so on, and so forth."

She paused for a moment, then started again.

"The second part of the Law is that all pieces retain a connection to the larger whole. This isn't as easy to explain, but it IS easier to prove. When a dark magic practicioner lays a curse upon someone, they usually need to obtain something with a connection, physical, or spiritual, to that person. A lock of hair or a bit of blood, flesh, even a cherished childhood toy."

"The third part of the Law is that the more pieces an object contains, the more resistant it is to magical change. This is why mages will often throw around fire or lightning with relative impunity, but spells which effect living things are considerably rarer, and spells which effect more than one of these things at a time, rarer still. You've probably heard of killing curses that Black Magic practicioners use. This is actually a very simple spell that doesn't effect the whole body, merely a very small part of its operation. It introduces a disruptive rhythm into the unfortunate's heart, which causes it to cease the pumping of blood. If the spell were attempting to simply cease the entire function of the target's body, it would require large amounts of energy to do so, but by focusing only on a smaller part of the person, it is made, unfortunately, simple."

Raven frowned. "That is, in a nutshell, the basis upon which all magic is conducted. Magic, as we understand it, is simply the act of exerting one's will upon the universe. It works because you, I, that tree, Garfield, all of these things are connected. The particles and aethers that make us up are all pieces of a larger whole which when combined make up what we perceive as the world."

Robin frowned. "I don't see how this explains..."

Raven shook her head slightly. This time, she wasn't particularly annoyed by his interruption, as though she had been expecting it. "I have to give you a basis of understanding, or my explanation won't make sense. You have to learn to crawl before you can learn to walk, and you have to learn to walk before you can run."

He nodded. "Go on."

She frowned. "All things exist in a state of balance. Whenever one force pushes, another pushes back. The harder the push, the harder the push back. In other words, in response to heat there is cold, in response to creation there is entropy, in response to light there is dark..."

He grinned thinly. "In response to evil there is good."

She snorted. "Yes, and that makes evil a natural force, doesn't it?"

He shrugged. "Never claimed it wasn't."

She blinked, then shook it off and continued. "Anyway, these forces exist and act in nature accordingly. When a mage works magic, they create an unnatural imbalance in these forces, an imbalance that the universe will seek to rectify. Understanding the forces that one manipulates is essential, because one has to know which force must be balanced in order to prevent backlash."

She raised an eyebrow. "Question?"

He shook his head. "I follow, so far."

She cleared her throat. "May I see your compass?"

He blinked, then pulled it out of the bit of metal and string and passed it over to her, curiousity etched on his face. It struck her that this was a very different side of him. He was absolutely fascinated by all of this.

She could sympathize... she had been the same way, when Azaron had explained it to her, so many years ago.

She held the compass out and they watched as it waggled back and forth. "This is a simple illustration of the principle I'm speaking of. Now, as you will note, there are two forces at work here, the pull of the metals polar end towards north, and the push of the string's natural resistance to being twisted. These two forces wavver back and forth until a happy medium is achieved and the two forces balance out, and the magnet, or "lodestone" as alchemists call it, points north."

She pushed at the magnet with her finger, turning it south. "Now, a mage enforces his will upon the magnet, making it point South."

She released the magnet and it spun around, jerking back and forth before finally settling northward again.

"As you can see, when a force is thwarted and thrown out of balance, the opposing force reacts violently to return the balance, often with far more force than the mage originally enacted. This causes a seesawing between the two forces. As one causes imbalance the other acts to return the balance, upsetting that balance the other way. The opposing force, in return, attempts the same balancing, and this causes the balance of forces to wavver back and forth, until equilibrium is once again achieved. The more intense the effect of the original force causing the imbalance, the more violent the reaction, and if unchecked, the longer the seesaw effect remains before balance is once again achieved naturally."

She looked him in the eye. "This is a simple example. I once watched an apprentice burst into flames because he used a cantrip to freeze the water in a fellow student's glass."

He frowned. "So... why don't mages burst into flames or freeze whenever they cast spells?"

She continued. "This is where the Three-Fold Law comes into play. We've already determined that all things are connected. At their most basic level, the forces of nature are simply energy in action. When in action, this energy becomes the force it fuels, or the object it creates, what have you. At rest, it is simply neutral energy. This energy, mages call Mana. It is fundamental building block of the universe, everything, and nothing."

She paused. "Living things are natural storehouses of Mana, and they are also generally made up of a large number of parts. So ANY magic which directly effects a living thing is difficult, because there are a large number of forces interacting in a living thing at any given time, because there is a large amount of potential energy waiting to be unleashed, and because there are a large number of parts to be effected."

She frowns. "The thing that determines a mage's skill is two-fold. One, the mages ability to effect an increasingly large amount of parts at any given time, and two, the amount of personal Mana the mage has to effect change with."

She held up her fingers as she ticked off the points. "The first skill can be learned, and as the mage gains experience in their field, they will eventually be able to effect greater and greater magical change, with greater and greater efficiency. The second is innate, and cannot be changed... the amount of personal energy the mage has will never increase beyond its original limit, though if depleted through large amounts of work it will slowly return over time."

She frowned. "Apprentices usually don't destroy themselves in the course of learning magic. The most dangerous time for a mage is between their apprenticeship and their achievement of master status. At that point, they have gained the experience necessary to effect great magical change, but they haven't learned their limits yet. Sometimes, they learn just how limited they are the hard way."

She snagged a weed and yanked it from the earth with a small grunt of effort, and looked at it musingly. "I COULD utterly obliterate this weed. As living things go, plants are relatively simple. The problem is, the personal energy that I would have to expend in order to do so is more than the physical effort required to simply pull it out of the ground."

Robin nodded, a considering look on his face. "I suppose making a bucket float is really only the manipulation of a simple force, so that makes it convenient?"

She nodded, a slight pleased expression on her face. "Furthermore, if you invest a portion of your own Mana into an object, over time it comes easier and easier to manipulate. Non-mages do this naturally to a lesser degree by long association with an object, that is why a sword you've used for years feels more comfortable in your hand than a brand new sword of the same heft and balance."

He nodded. "That makes a lot of sense..."

She raised an eyebrow. "You trailed off as though you'd just thought of something." She observed.

He frowned. "Well... doesn't that mean that your father was a massively powerful mage? I mean, didn't he destroy an entire Kingdom?"

Her expression darkened. She closed her eyes.

He winced. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-"

"Just drop it, Squire. What's past is past. Let's just say... there was a lot more at work there than the simple manipulation of forces. Mages can make pacts with other beings, and some of those beings that exist do so as a representation of pure darkness. Making such a pact allows the mage to tap unimaginable power, but like objects, if you associate with a being or force for too long, it stains you just as much as you stain it. Those beings eventually invest so much of themselves into you that you end up being more them than yourself, and when you die, they simply add you to their own essence."

She shuddered. "Sometimes, you don't even have to die."

Robin didn't really know what to say to that, so he simply turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Her words left a chill on him that stayed with him long into the afternoon, however.

* * *

The moonlight filtered through the leaves as it spread across the modest house in the trees. A single, pristine streak of moonshine fell across the Witch's face as she lay dreaming. She slept fitfully, her calm shattered by the images that flickered through her mind's eye.

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped, a sharp intake of breath shattering her calm.

She looked about her in confusion.

City streets at night. How did she come to be in this place?

A creaking tavern sign and the chatter of drunken voices caught her attention. She took to the night sky quietly, wishing to avoid attention.

Had she not been keeping and eye out for witnesses, she would have missed him.

He crouched quietly on the roof of the building across the street from the tavern, his threadbare woolen cloak doing little to keep out the night's chill. He was a slight boy, an urchin, hardly worthy of a second glance, save for the look of absolutely chilling intensity gave the streets below. As though sensing her presence he looked up, and her eyes widened.

It was Robin. A young face full of loss and anger, pain and grief at war with pure hatred in his gaze. A red, infected circular wound was visible on his small neck. It looked suspiciously like a horrific rope burn.

"No..." She whispered. It was happening. She had been so careful! She-

He narrowed his eyes in her direction, then a clattering noise drew his attention downward. A procession of horses traveled below. His mouth took on a grim, anticipatory set. His lithe muscles grew tense.

Below, a small group of soldiers and a pair of lords approached, the lords in platemail armor suitable for war. The procession's colors were barely visible in the feeble light of the tavern, but they appeared orange and black... orange and black... where had she seen that before...

She was startled from her musing as the boy leapt silently into the night, with a soundless shriek of rage, a dagger clenched in one small fist. Landing lightly on the hindquarters of the horse carrying the more important looking of the two lords he brought the dagger down in a strike towards the man's unprotected nape. He was rebuffed when the Lord, in an amazing display of reflexes and agility, twisted in the saddle to take the daggerblow against his right greave, backhanding the boy solidly from the back of his horse.

The younger Robin curled around the blow and flew from the back of the horse, then twisted in midair like a cat and placed both feet against the wall of the tavern. Absorbing the shock of the impact in his soles, he redirected that force and shot from the building back towards the knight in an impressive display of acrobatics.

"Slade!!" He roared, his strides eating up the distance between them. He dodged around the few guards who had realized something was wrong and spring back at the mounted knight.

The knight spun his horse impressively in place as the rest of his men milled about in confusion. His sword cleared sheath in a single smooth motion. He parried the returning dagger stroke easily, locking blades with the boy, his eyes burning coldly behind the slits of his helm.

"What have we here..." His voice was low and dangerous, but smooth, like poison mixed with sweet syrup. "A mouse with fangs?"

Robin snarled. "You killed them! You killed all of them!"

The man's eyes glittered with recognition. "Ah... a Tymani, I see. The object lesson objects."

He forced the boy's dagger wide in a single vicious shove, then grasped the boy's neck in his other fist with snake-like speed and held him fully extended away from his body, dangling over the street. The horse danced several nervous steps.

His mailed fist squeezed cruelly, and the boy choked and gasped, his face turning purple. He stabbed downward at the man with his dagger, but his arms weren't long enough to reach Slade's elbow joint, and he could find no opening in his steel armored greave.

"I thought I taught you people the meaning of a Lord's priviledge." His voice betrayed no strain as he choked the life from his tattered assailant. It remained calm as though he were simply putting out a candle.

He chuckled.

"You Tymani always were a bit slow to learn life's more... unpleasant lessons."

Something that glittered darkly and whistled as it flew slammed into Slade's arm at the vulnerable joint and he reflexively dropped the boy to the cobbles. The man let out a low, menacing growl.

"Who-"

Whatever he was going to ask was lost in a howl of agony as the boy once again astounded everyone present. As he dropped from Slade's grasp, he twisted and used the momentum to throw his dagger straight armed at Slade's face. Distracted by pain and searching for another enemy, the Lord recoiled and clutched the slit of his helm...

Where a dagger hilt now bloomed like an obscene flower.

Robin lurched to his feet and drunkenly ran from the enraged Lord, but slammed into an unyielding surface and collapsed to the street.

He found himself looking upwards at a black armored nightmare in front of him. He was tall, and encased head to foot in a closefitting black suit of fine platemail. A helm stylized to appear bat-like and terrible glared down at him in judgement.

Robin shuddered involuntarily.

The dark knight glanced upward then, and shifted slightly, widening out his stance.

A longsword of heart breaking beauty flashed from a dark scabbard and a whine of steel on steel distracted attention to the sword which had nearly cleaved Robin in twain. Sparks showered him.

"THAT BOY..." Slade's voice was no longer calm and collected now. Rather, it spoke of a cold, murderous rage. "IS MINE. I DEMAND JUSTICE!"

He pushed with all of his might against the sword blocking his vengeance, but it didn't even wavver.

A coldly amused voice answered him from beneath that terrible helm. "Which he shall receive... in full measure."

Robin lost consciousness then, and Raven was left to stare at the frozen tableau in confusion and dismay.

Long after sleep departed, the memory of those events remained, like a dagger in her mind's eye.

She could not reclaim her focus, try as she might.

* * *

The next few days were like clockwork between them. Raven, Robin quickly learned, was a creature of absolutely strict habit. She rose at the same time every morning, and proceeded with the same routine, without fail. Despite this, she was not terribly inflexible, nor did she get put out of sorts when things didn't go according to plan. Rather, her entire existence was ordered in a way that involved the minimum amount of stress on her.

Which, judging from the powers contained in her petite form, was probably for the best.

Every morning, for an hour, she would go down into the little clearing to the east of her house, to its exact center, and simply sit. Eyes closed, breathing deeply, her lips moving in a silent mantra of some sort, she would meditate.

Robin watched her, sometimes, as she did so. He told himself he was simply making sure nothing happened to her.

It certainly had nothing to do with how peaceful she looked when she did it.

Afterwards she would collect Robin, and they would go about the multitude of tasks necessary to keep the witch's home in a good state of repair. Tending her garden, mending her fences, repairing small things around her house. More often than not, Robin found himself utilized as a strong back and a source of manual labor, but he didn't mind.

Despite the mornings becoming more and more chill, the amount of work usually left Robin dripping in sweat by late morning to early afternoon. Robin was an extremely neat individual, a habit since childhood, and such a state would have driven him crazy, had there not been an alternative.

As it turned out, Raven had a little well behind her house, and if the stones fit together a little too well, and the rope was perhaps a bit too finely made, it held clear, cold water all the same. After the heat of late morning and early afternoon, it felt good to strip down to the waist and let the cold water wash away the dust and sweat. His unruly hair he tossed back from his face, and he turned with a slightly satisfied expression when he noticed someone watching.

"That teacup is about to spill." He pointed out reasonably.

Raven started, yelped as hot tea lapped over her hand, then set down the cup and scowled at him, a very slight blush dusting her cheeks.

He grinned.

She muttered something quietly to herself and sighed. It sounded suspiciously like, "been entirely too long since.."

Robin wisely did not press for further details, and in a moment she turned a questioning gaze at him.

"You are something of an enigma, Robin." She conceded, after a time.

He raised an eyebrow, bemused.

"Says the three hundred plus year old magician who looks somewhere on the southside vicinity of eighteen."

She closed her mouth after a moment, then gave him a considering look.

"Touche." She conceded.

"I'm not a nobleman." He said after a short pause.

She blinked. "What?"

He turned back to the well and shook his head, flinging droplets about the clearing. "It's what you were about to ask, isn't it?"

He could almost feel her frown. "Actually, I had already figured that bit of information out for myself. You don't talk like a nobleman, you certainly don't act like one, and physical labor doesn't cause you to break out in hives."

He snorted.

"What I am somewhat curious about is how a common man becomes a knight... since I was pretty sure that you had to be noble born in order to be one."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What you mean is, how does a common street rat who attacked and injured a lord in his own kingdom find himself a squire of said kingdom?" His voice was quiet.

She started and turned as if to leave, then stopped and froze for a moment as though torn between two equally unpleasant choices. Finally, almost against her own will, she looked back at him.

"Yes." She said hoarsely.

He stared at her for a moment, a somewhat troubled look on his face, then bound his hair back with a deliberate motion, and shrugged his tunic on. She sighed.

"Alright, sorry I-"

He shook his head. "No, no... I'M sorry... I suppose it makes sense. I don't know what it is that binds us, and you won't tell me..."

He raised a hand, forstalling any argument. "For what I'm sure are very good, and very personal, reasons."

"Still, I... I wasn't sure. I thought I might have seen you for a moment... I haven't had that dream in a long time, but I suppose..."

He straightened. "Fair is fair. I should warn you though, it's a long story. I scarcely know where to begin."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not begin at the beginning?"

He grinned slightly at that, then shrugged. "Alright, but I warned you. We might want to find a place that's not out in the sun."

She frowned, then nodded. "We can take a walk through the woods if you like... there are some herbs and mushrooms that don't grow in my garden that I've been meaning to look for."

He nodded. "That would work."

Out of the clearing and into the woods they went. It was pleasantly cool, and an occasional breeze filtered playfully through the trees. They walked without a particular sense of urgency, more of a stroll, actually, though neither of them would admit it.

He frowned. "You ever heard of the Tymani?"

She nodded. "Of course. I didn't think you were one of them... skin color is all wrong."

He smirked. "Well if you've heard of them, you've heard the rumours as well, right?"

She considered a mushroom near the crotch of a tree, then dismissed it. "Well, just the usual. Rob you blind, not to be trusted, shiftless wanderers, practicioners of witchcraft, steal children... I never really gave much credence to them, seeing as how rumours have been SO accurate in my own set of circumstances." She gave him a sardonic look at this.

He gave her a shrugging gesture in response, as though acknowledging her point. "Well... in the case of the Tymani, they're actually kind of true. At least, from an outside perspective. They don't have any concept of individual ownership, and in their case, need outweighs any other concern, so if there is something you have that you don't seem to need, and they do... they'll take it. It's what they do amongst themselves, only nobody takes it for a crime. As far as not being trusted, Tymani hold their word as sacred, so they don't give it very often, not to outsiders. The only oath that has any binding relevance to them is if they give their spoken word of honor. Anything else is negotiable, so written contracts or a handshake mean nothing to them. They DO wander about from place to place, but where ever they happen to be at the moment is home, because everything and everyone they care about is in their wagons."

Robin reached into his belt and held out the magnet. "Witchcraft. At least, to a peasant, and sadly, some nobles who never bothered to learn any different. You and I both know there's about as much magic in using a lodestone to find north as there is in hitting a wild beast with a stick. Also, if they get a reputation as soothsayers and fortune tellers, what do they care? They'll take coin that a peasant obviously doesn't need, since he's spending it on a fortune telling, and if their prediction doesn't happen to come true, well, by that time, they're already long gone. As for their supposed healing powers, they travel a lot... they come across a multitude of different cultures, and things that are practical and work they tend to pick up and utilize."

"What about stealing children?" She turned and remarked idly, despite her obvious interest.

He got a sad, wistful little look on his face that made her stop walking. "Hmm. That is one rumour that's actually true."

She blinked.

He smiled bitterly. "The Tymani are a race of half-bloods, Raven. Somewhere in the distant past they interbred with the Fae, and because of that, they live an extremely long time, for humans. In addition to that, some of them are allergic to iron, and more importantly, they don't have children very often. So children are the only things they really hold sacred. If they see children being abused, or neglected..."

He smiled. "I don't remember who my mother and father were. My birth mother and father, I mean. I just remember a lot of pain, and then I remember a happy little gold skinned man seeing me with one of my eyes swollen shut and a busted lip, and wheedling me away from my chores and taking me away in his wagon."

He paused, remembering a warm, soothing voice, and a strong hand that did not bring pain with its descent. "Why little bird... little Robin Redbreast, who has treated you so? Come with me, little Robin, and you will never be mistreated, I swear upon my name, Mihai."

He shook it off, smiling gently.

"I don't miss them... like I said, I don't even remember them all that well, since I couldn't have been much older than five or six. The parents who I DO remember... my REAL mother and father, were Lyubitshka and Mihai."

His smile turned bittersweet. He looked down for a moment.

"I never felt neglected, or abandoned. I felt cherished... all I ever wanted to be was a Tymani boy. I didn't look like them, so I overcompensated, I suppose. It was silly. They never made me feel like I was different. I had to work twice as hard to keep up in the children's games. Tymani kids are like monkeys, Raven. Some of the things they do for fun... Everybody who wasn't too old or too young was an acrobat, a tumbler, a juggler, a knife thrower"  
He looked upwards, lost in thought.

"I wasn't one of them by birth, but I made damn sure I was one of them by trade. By the time I was ten years old, I could do anything my father could. By the time I was twelve, I was earning as much as two adult Tymani."

His smile fell. His eyes took on a hard, almost ferocious glint. Not pain... there was no evidence of pain in them, but of anyone, Raven knew that you didn't let that much darkness escape from your gaze unless there was pain pushing it out.

"Then we came to Gotham."

He frowned. "You have to understand something about the Tymani, Raven. Nobody likes to see them, but everybody tolerates them because of the novelty they represent. Your average rural village might see one Tymani band pass through in a generation, and that's what everybody in that village talks about for decades. If times are good, and harvests are plentiful, the village might even just so happen to have a "festival" right when the Tymani happen to be in town."

He sighed. "Right away, we knew something wasn't right. The peasants were unfriendly and more than a little fearful, and everywhere you looked, people had that raw-boned, bleeding edge of starvation look to them. No dogs, no cats... barely any livestock. There wasn't even a terribly large amount of grass. You could tell they were just scraping by. Still, they were at least a little receptive... they didn't throw rocks. I wish they had. If they had been hostile, we would have just moved on."

His eyes grew far away as he remembered. "We stopped, and we set up... I remember a juggling routine, and I remember a few coins. Coppers... nothing special, but more than we expected. I remember a girl dancing... if there is anything magical about the Tymani it's in their women and the way they dance..."

He snapped back to the present, and fixed her with a hard gaze. Despite herself, she was spellbound.

"They rode in on horses... huge, monsterous looking things. I know now that they were warhorses, but at the time, the biggest horses I'd seen were the occasional plowhorses the peasants used, and these towered over them. Some of them wore tabards and light armor, but a small group of them were in Lord's plate... and their leader..."

His lips took on a hard, angry cast. "Orange and black, Raven. His colors were orange and black. Everyone in the caravan was scared at first, and the villagers all but disappeared. The lord took a look around, and even in that featureless helmet I could FEEL the cold, calculating evil... He glanced down at our pot, and saw the coins... and..."

"His voice was a slice of winter, and he asked why it was that the village had the coin to give to vagabonds when they couldn't pay the taxes owed to their rightful king."

He shook his head. "I don't know how it started really... I suppose one of his men took a fancy to the girl who had been dancing. All of the sudden there was fire, and there was screaming... and..."

He smiled grimly. "We didn't go down without a fight, I can tell you that. Only a few of his men without armor survived. Knights... those are a different story. We couldn't fight heavy cavalry... not without the element of surprise, and the Tymani are not a violent people... they couldn't have conceived of that kind of brutality... it just wasn't in them."

"When it was all over, they lined us all up, everyone who could still stand that is... and they took us out to this huge tree that overlooked the village. Anybody who couldn't walk there, they put to the sword and left them to rot."

"There were a few men, mostly too old to have fought. Women. Children... lots of children. They lined us all up, and they tied a bunch of ropes into nooses..."

Raven closed her eyes. "Oh no..."

A queer little smile flickered on his lips. It was almost like he couldn't think of any other expression that would fit.

"He said that this would be a bit of incentive for the villagers to be more forthcoming in the future. We weren't a threat. We weren't even a nuisance. We were a CONVENIENCE. An object lesson that no one would miss. They built a bench, they had us all watch while they did it, laughing and joking as they worked, then they set it up, and had us all stand on it, then they just... kicked it over."

"Have you ever heard twenty necks break at the same time?" He said quietly. Then he shuddered.

"It was dumb luck really... I happened to be at the end of the limb they put eight of us on, and all that weight made the tree limb bend a bit. I guess the knot wasn't tied right, either... so when everyone else died instantly, I sort of bounced instead. Dazed, hurt, suffocating, but still alive. Choking. My hands were tied, but I was maybe fourteen and small for my age, so they didn't bother tying my feet together, just my hands. So I bounced, and I came back down, and I saw it coming... KNEW that if I didn't act, I was going to strangle slow..."

He looked at her intently. "I almost didn't bother. I almost just let it happen. Everyone I loved was dead, for nothing."

He grinned. "But I DID have something. They were riding away. They didn't even stay to see what they had done. I was outraged. I was mad. It wasn't FAIR. It wasn't JUST. So I flipped, and flopped like a fish on a hook, and somehow, I got an ankle around that tree limb without breaking my damn neck. It was sunset by the time I managed to inch myself up on top of that branch... the crows were already hard at work by then. It was the middle of the night when I finally managed to chew through the ropes around my hands."

Then she saw it for the first time. Pain. Self-recrimination. She knew those feelings well enough to see them reflected in someone else's eyes.

"I couldn't bury them. I couldn't get them down. I just had to leave like a dirty thief in the night. I went back to what was left of the wagons, and I grabbed only what I needed, then I set out to follow them."

He looked down.

"There was just no way I could keep up with them on foot, but I remembered them talking about the King, so I figured they worked for the King of Gotham, King Bruce. I was half mad with grief and mostly ignorant of the way young men make their way in the world without a family to support them, but I learn quickly."

He sighed and shook his head. "I'm not ashamed to say I took what I needed and others didn't. I don't know what I was thinking, how I was going to find the man responsible for the murders. That's what they were to me. Murders. What right did he have?"

He smiled bitterly. "In any case, I got to Gotham and asked around about a Lord who's colors were orange and black. Not surprisingly, people didn't want to talk about it, but I finally found out they were a Lord Slade's colors. He was currently out of Gotham proper, on his knightly rounds."

Robin shook his head. "Knights ride rounds to be visible symbols of justice. Slade was using his as an excuse to shake down a few peasants in the name of the King. Sadly, this was not terribly uncommon among the Knights. Everybody was just too afraid to say anything."

He stopped and stared upwards at the canopy of leaves above them. "I didn't care. I wanted to die, but before that... I wanted to take that bastard with me."

Raven nodded, quietly. "I think... I can understand."

He started and looked back at her. "Can you?" He whispered. He searched her face for a moment, then nodded to himself.

"You know... I think maybe you can, at that."

She looked away from the intensity in his face. After a moment, he continued.

"That Dark Knight who appeared on the scene was something of a local legend. There was a time, apparently, when Gotham was much worse than it was when I came on the scene. This Dark Knight with no colors, and no markings identifying him other than a sort of batlike sigil appeared and began to cut through the corruption and decay in the city. Rumours varied about him... that he was a disaffected noble who hid his face for fear of censure by his peers... that he was a close personal friend of the King... that he was a demon summoned to do the bidding of the King..."

He grinned ferally. "As I said, rumours sometimes have a ring of truth to them. In any case, eventually, Slade and I came before the King, and when Slade glared at me, he had to do it with one eye."

He sighed.

"I only wish I'd aimed just a little better. As was his right, he spoke first, and to hear him say it, I attacked him with no provocation and cruelly injured him just out of sheer spite and perversity. The court ate it up. I mean honestly, this was the word of a Knight in good standing. One with a somewhat checkered reputation, admittedly, but a Knight nonetheless. Here I was, an unknown, dirty urchin who consorted with Tymani, with a nooseburn around his neck and who admitted he had done the deed and was glad he did it."

He grinned. "Still, the King bade me speak, so I told my story. To be honest, I was a little relieved at that point. I figured that he would listen to my story, then condemn me to death, and this time, they wouldn't botch the job. At the very least, Slade was never going to forget me."

He looked up. "I couldn't have known that the King had been investigating reports of Knights overstepping their bounds. I couldn't have known that several other Knights had already been made examples of. I also couldn't have known that my story filled in the gaps in the reports of the Kings most valued agent, the Dark Knight. The signed and sealed testimony of the Dark Knight himself corraborated what I was saying, and you could have heard a pin drop when I was finished speaking. He looked around his court in disdain, then the King passed judgement."

"Slade was stripped of titles, lands, and Knighthood. He was also to be placed into custody while the King considered the proper sentence for someone who had ruthlessly murdered a band of sovereign peoples. What disturbed me most about it all... was that Slade didn't appear all that disappointed. Oh he still glared at me with hatred, but he didn't look devestated or defeated. At the most, he looked inconvenienced. I suppose that should have warned me, but at that point, I didn't much care."

"For my part, I was found guilty of assaulting a Lord. My life was forfeit."

Raven frowned at this.

"I was taken to the infirmary, at the time I thought it odd that they would make me well so that they could kill me. The King came to visit me, and he asked me what I felt of his Justice."

He grinned again, this time at a fond memory. "I told him exactly what I thought of it. When Knights act like bandits, and Lords indiscriminately oppress the people they are sworn to serve, they make their kingdom trash that not even MY people would pick up. I didn't have anything to lose, why not say what I really felt."

The trees were now interspersed with the occasional bit of stone. When they approached what could only be described as a tumbled down wall. Robin frowned. "I didn't know men had settled these woods."

Raven looked around and raised an eyebrow. "These are ruins are considerably older than man, Squire. The Fae once held court here, but they have long since retreated to their space between worlds, the Underhill. When man brought Iron into the world, a little bit of the magic that once held sway fled forever. The Fae followed."

Robin nodded. "I'd always wondered..."

Raven nodded quietly. "So what was the King's reaction?"

He grinned and continued. "The King looked at me for a moment, then asked me if I had the courage to change that. I told him that I didn't know about courage, but that seeing as how my life was effectively over, and I was already a dead man, that dead men don't particularly fear anything."

"He gave me an odd little grin at that point, and left. I got well, and my life WAS forfeit. I found myself a ward of the state, effectively oathbound to serve the interests of the Kingdom directly."

He rolled his eyes. "I was given over to the Dark Knight for training, and he pretty much beat what it was to be a Knight, a REAL Knight, into me. I certainly didn't make any friends when I was entered into the Chapterhouse rolls as a Squire, but by that time, I was unhorsing and besting fully invested Knights at single combat without breaking a sweat."

He wrinkled his nose. "Which is probably why I am still a squire, come to think of it. Still, I won't stop until I'm a Knight. I don't care about the titles or the lands that come with it... most of that stuff I'll never have anyway. What I care about is what Knights are for... what they are REALLY supposed to be. Knights dispense justice, and their word is pretty much law outside of Gotham City. I want to prevent what happened to my family from ever happening to anyone ever again."

Raven nodded, and cocked her head slightly. "I suppose there may be some truth to your claims that your King is a just and fair ruler..." She grimaced. "Well, for the most part. He certainly seems to have a rigid sense of justice, but I suppose that isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"What happened to Slade?"

His expression grew dark.

"He was escorted to his estate, and on the way there, his men struck from ambush and freed him. I suppose he had a backup plan. He fled Gotham and became a mercenary. The sort that gives credence to their reputation as dogs of war. Every once in awhile a Knight will go to apprehend him. To date, he has killed seventeen of them."

He sighed. "They call him the Deathstroke."

Her eyes widened. "Deathstroke... I've heard of him... YOU were the one that put out his eye?"

Robin nodded grimly. "Like I said... he won't ever forget this streetrat."

He turned away and scanned the woods, an odd expression on his face. His voice was slightly distracted. "One day... I'll find him."

Raven frowned. "And what then?"

He did not turn. "I'll bring him to justice, and this time, he won't escape what he's due."

He paused. "Raven, are you sure these ruins are abandoned?"

She frowned, opening herself up to her otherworldly senses. The residual mana of the ruins pulsed in her sight, the odd tone of the alien magicks giving her a slight headache and obscuring her from getting a good feel for the surrounding area.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I was... I don't sense anything."

He looked back and her and raised an eyebrow. "I could swear that we're being-"

His eyes widened and he dived at her suddenly. "LOOK OUT!"

Taken off guard, she was unprepared when he slammed into her bodily and knocked her to the ground. An oddly shaped bolt of green fire hissed through the space where her head had been and slammed into the crumbling masonry behind them. The section of the wall pulsed green a split second before it exploded violently. Robin threw himself over the prone girl in front of him as superheated shards of ancient stone showered them.

He looked up, and glanced around violently. His eyes narrowed.

"Raven, we've got to..." He glanced, down.

Despite the tenseness of the situation, he couldn't help the sudden release of a downtrodden sigh. The girl had apparently hit her head on a half buried bit of stone from the crumbling wall. A goose egg and a trickle of blood from her right temple explained her unresponsiveness.

Robin rolled his eyes upward and stood. He muttered disgustly under his breath. "Great job, Knight boy. You just creamed the damsel. What's your next feat, have tea with the assassin?"

He scanned the trees worriedly looking for the attacker, his feet widened into a defensive stance over the unconscious girl. He thought furiously. -That bolt came from a downward angle... whoever it is, they're shooting from above, but the angle is too steep for the trees...-

A sudden thought came to him and he glanced upward at the open sky. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open.

"Ohhh... boy."

An otherworldy figure floated above him, glaring down coldly. Her jewel-like green eyes flashed furiously, and her skin, so golden in color it was almost orange, reflected the green corona that surrounded her lithe form. She cocked her head slightly, red hair shifting as she did so, and he caught sight of the strangely insectile wings that flashed behind her, trailing motes of green light.

What caught his attention most was the glowing crescent of emerald energy that extended in both directions from her right hand. Her left was drawn back behind it and a similar bolt of energy glowed across the crescent like...

He winced. "That's a bow. It would have to be a bow, and not just any bow... A green magical DEATH BOW, apparently."

She narrowed her at his words and frowned. A sound like a cross between a pure musical note descending into a derisive tri-tone fifth note and a liquid language escaped her lips.

He blinked, then frowned and stepped slowly to the side. The bolt followed him as he moved, and something in her eyes flashed.

He narrowed his eyes.

The hand drawing the apparently invisible bowstring back tensed.

That strange language/music phrase was repeated, this time more forcefully.

His eyes never left hers. "I don't... understand... you." He said slowly, calmly.

He had only a split second to react to the anger in her face, and then he was flipping backward away from the explosion of hot dirt and green fire that lit the location he had been standing. His feet found purchase atop the blasted wall and he spun his right hand, the staff extending and spinning in his fist in a dizzying pattern. He held it perpendicular to his body and shifted his left foot backward, a throwing knife appearing like magic in his left hand.

"Nevermind, I think I understand you now." He said grimly.

Another eldritch green bolt was her only answer.


End file.
